


Shave Me

by thebrightestbird



Series: Let us cling together [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Facial Shaving, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Mustaches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 08:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrightestbird/pseuds/thebrightestbird
Summary: The kind of staring Roger and John are paralyzed with is the kind that comes from bafflement and concern.Because Freddie and Brian have facial hair now.It's 1980. Styles change. Roger and John don't very much like it.





	Shave Me

“Well, darlings, what do you think?”

Roger and John say absolutely nothing immediately, too absorbed in just staring at Freddie and Brian.

It’s not the weighted kind of staring that comes from the overwhelming relief of reuniting with their respective boyfriends after some days apart, which is what they should be feeling. It should be joy and laughter and kisses and light groping.

It’s none of that. No, the kind of staring Roger and John are paralyzed with is the kind that comes from bafflement and concern.

Because Freddie and Brian have facial hair now.

Roger leans close to John to whisper, “If I tell him, ‘Gayer,’ would that be appropriate?”

John looks at him in disbelief.

“As if you don’t agree,” Roger scoffs.

John ignores the comment and turns serious eyes back onto his bearded boyfriend and their mustached lead singer. “Ten days,” he starts. “We left you two alone for just ten days — not even a full two weeks — and this is what you two decide to do?”

Brian scrunches his (bearded) face. “We did other things. It doesn’t take any focus to grow facial hair.”

“Shut your hairy face, Bri,” Roger practically yells. “There’s no excuse for encouraging my boyfriend to grow practically a third eyebrow on his upper lip.”

Freddie rolls his eyes. “Please, this wasn’t all Brian’s idea.”

“Well, Fred,” John says, “enlighten Rog and I to _how_ exactly this grand idea of covering my boyfriend’s beautiful jawline came about?”

Brian and Freddie turn to each other with slightly panicked expressions.

“We, uh,” Brian eloquently starts, “it was, well, a _mutual_ decision based on several factors, carefully thought through, not at all dubious-”

Freddie interrupts with an impatient huff. “We got trashed on cheap wine like abandoned housewives the night you two left for the bloody classic cars convention, and it was either grow something or cut something, and since I already cut off all our sleeves the last time Rog left me alone for more than a couple days, Brian and I came up with the brilliant idea to grow out the kind of facial hair we never tried before.”

“How was growing something or cutting something your only two options for entertainment?” John asks in utter disbelief.

Roger puts a placating hand on his shoulder. “Deacs, perhaps we should be counting our blessings here. We’re lucky Freddie didn’t cut off Brian’s hair.”

John gasps at the notion. “Wh-what? That’s not funny.” He looks at Brian. “Did that almost happen?”

“Huh? Um, no?” Brian lies poorly.

John’s eyes are wide with betrayal. “Brian, what the fuck? You know you’re never, ever, ever allowed to cut your lush hair! You aren’t even allowed to bald!”

“Yes, yes, you’ve threatened me repeatedly with various elaborate retribution schemes from withholding kinky sex to auctioning off the Red Special and using the money to buy your own island, which I won’t be allowed to visit.”

“You know I’ll do it too.”

“Fair enough. That’s why I now have a beard instead of a new haircut. Although, I still don’t understand how you expect me to control natural balding.”

“You’re smart. Fucking cure it if it starts happening to you.”

“That beard though … ” Roger trails off, collecting what he’s trying to say. “You look like your own evil twin.”

“Yes!” John exclaims. “Like that one episode of _Star Trek_. You’re evil Mr. Spock! I don’t want to have sex with evil Spock!”

Brian scowls, indignant over the criticism.

“You both are being ridiculous,” Freddie says. “Evil Spock was quite hot.”

Brian smirks. “Thank you, Fred.”

“Oh, don’t you try to convince me that this,” John waves his hand in front of Brian’s face like he could wax it that way, “is actually hot. No way, Freddie. If that even _is_ you.”

Freddie scoffs, affronted.

“The mustache does make you look like a totally different person,” Roger explains. “Not quite my Freddie,” he adds in a murmur.

Despite the tinge of sadness in his boyfriend’s voice, Freddie stubbornly defends the facial hair. “We’ve always experimented with our look. We have to change with the times.”

“It’s 1980, Fred!” Roger exclaims, going toe to toe and getting an eyeful of the controversial follicles. “Of all the terrible styles of the ’70s, you want to bring mustaches into the new decade?”

“I can make anything work, darling.”

Roger heaves an exasperated sigh. “God help me, I know you can.”

||

They’re due to go on tour in North America soon for _The Game_ , which has done the best of any of their previous albums there. As a warmup, they’re doing a few shows locally, never wanting to forget their home fans.

The last two shows have been great, if a bit off-kilter. The front-row crowds have been mixed in their reactions to the new facial hair of Queen’s most prominent members. Some booing even reaches Roger’s ears on his perch in the back of the stage.

Tonight, they do one last show near London before they venture overseas.

“You still sleeping in one of the cats’ rooms?” John asks.

Roger sighs, mindlessly twirling a drumstick while they wait on Brian and Freddie, who have taken to preparing for the shows separate from John and himself since the Great Follicular Battle. “Last night, it was Lily’s room. Hers is the biggest, and she still hissed when I dared to take the corner bed.”

John huffs. “Well, at least Brian’s beard isn’t constantly scratching you awake because he likes to snuffle on bare skin when he sleeps.”

“Why don’t you wear a shirt?”

“I do! He always rucks it up somehow.”

“Yes,” Roger says, dryly, “sounds like pure misery.”

“It is!” John pouts. “Brian’s just being a stubborn prat, as usual.”

“I don’t know, Deacy. Maybe the stubborn ones are us this time.”

Brian and Freddie finally come around then. They don’t give a word or glance to John and Roger as they walk to where they are to enter the stage.

Roger sighs again and tugs a sulking John to follow them.

||

They’re finishing the night strong with the soaring combo of “We Will Rock You”/“We Are the Champions.” John’s feeling the usual euphoria setting in that comes with particularly good performances.

Until he sees something odd fly onto the stage.

Now, random junk reaching the stage isn’t unusual. Flowers, bracelets, stuffed animals, knickers. However, whatever was flying in the direction of Freddie and Brian was none of these things, and the items were landing a little too close to his bandmates in John’s opinion. He moves out of his usual position to investigate … and his bass gets smacked with a pink plastic razor.

Some idiots in the front are throwing disposable razors at Freddie and Brian.

John sees _red_. He stays right in the projectile path and stares dead at the offending “fans” who would dare throw such dangerous shit onstage in a crude attempt to insult his dearest mate and the love of his fucking life.

As the song finishes, he chances going back to position at Roger’s side, who looks at him with a puzzled expression, probably wondering why John had gone out so far from his usual spot. They get through the song though and the moment Roger’s done drumming, John lets loose. “Some arseholes in the front row were throwing razors at Fred and Bri!”

Roger goes from confused to shocked to absolutely furious. He screams at a crew member to get him a broom, and John points the way. Brian and Freddie delay their usual end-of-show bows and waves to see what the hell has John and Roger distracted. Roger starts sweeping every single one of the razors that landed on the stage floor and pushes them all off in the direction of the offenders in the audience. He waves for security to come get the pricks. “Fuck off and never come back!”

Once that’s handled, Roger turns around with the usual bright smile he flashes at the end of shows. John and Roger share satisfied nods, while Freddie and Brian join them near the front of the stage to finally give the audience the bows and waves and whoops that they’ve been waiting for, “God Save the Queen” playing them off.

||

Once they’re in the dressing area behind closed doors, Freddie opens his mouth to ask what the hell was going on but only manages the “Wha-” before Roger muffles him with a kiss.

As thrown as Freddie is, he goes along with it fairly quickly because, well, it’s Rog snogging him, and they haven’t really done this in weeks.

Roger is the one who breaks it with a giggle. “Oh, God, it tickles!”

Freddie shakes his head in confusion.

“The mustache, it tickles,” Roger explains with another breathy giggle.

Oh. Freddie had actually forgotten he had the bloody thing. He’s caught up in seeing his boyfriend’s adorable smile up close, and fuck, he can’t believe they let themselves get so wound up about it and deprived themselves of each other over such a silly thing.

Roger’s mind is in a similar realm. “I’m sorry for being such a bastard about the mustache, Freddie.”

“I’m sorry too, dear.”

“I’ll get used to the tickling.”

Freddie purposefully kisses and nuzzles his cheek in response, making Roger emit the adorable giggle again.

“Hell, maybe I’ll even grow my own mustache.”

Freddie looks at him skeptically, knowing full well that Roger would never grow a mustache.

“Or maybe a beard like Bri!” Roger says with an honest sparkle in his eyes.

“Oh, darling, don’t you dare.”

“Why am I not allowed to grow facial hair?”

“As long as you have that baby face, you are most definitely not allowed to have a beard,” Freddie explains.

Roger rolls his eyes.

“Now, when you’re old and grumpy, sure, grow a beard. Get some tattoos too. Become a biker grandpa.”

Roger smirks at the notion. “Thank you for the retirement ideas, Fred.”

They do their best to kiss as the smiles on their faces aren’t going anywhere any time soon.

||

John ever so gently but precisely runs the straight razor under Brian’s chin from the delicate neck line and cleans the blade on a towel. He’s almost finished with shaving off the entirety of the beard.

Brian’s eyes are closed, drowsy from the concert and the almost meditative effect of being shaved by his boyfriend.

John puts the razor aside and grabs a warm, wet towel to wipe off the leftover shaving cream on the face he adores so much. He removes the towel and inspects his work, moving Brian’s head side to side. Satisfied, he kisses the man firmly, sweetly, pouring his love and want into it.

Brian flutters his eyes open when John pulls away and notices the smugness immediately. He sighs, exasperated. “Don’t forget why I let you shave the beard off, Deacy.” He brings a hand up to run over the short hairs at the back of his boyfriend’s head.

“A deal’s a deal,” John acknowledges. “Don’t worry.” He brushes his lips victoriously over the now smooth skin along Brian’s jawline. “I’ll grow my hair out again. We’ll see how it goes.”

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know Brian's beard and Freddie's mustache never collided in real time. It's just a silly story that I hope you enjoyed :)


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